The summer heat pressed down on Velkairos like a suffocating blanket. Within the modest confines of the Happy Homes Complex, Azrael's eyes fluttered open. Confusion clouded his vision as the worn television across the room droned on with the morning news broadcast.
"Master Lore Cardian, also known as the Dread King, has arrived in Velkairos today," the anchor announced with practiced enthusiasm. "We extend our warmest welcome to Master Lucian and look forward to his invaluable guidance during his stay."
The reporter's voice took on a more serious tone as she continued, "Master Lucian is renowned as a grandmaster of the underworld system, and his visit to our city comes at a critical time. He's here to help contain the escalating riots within the sea realm known as Demon Nest."
Azrael sat up slowly, his head pounding as fragments of unfamiliar memories began to surface.
"Intelligence reports suggest these Demon Nest disturbances may be orchestrated by the notorious Crimson Oath Society," the news continued. "Citizens are urged to remain vigilant and report any suspicious individuals to the authorities immediately."
Each word from the television felt like a needle piercing his consciousness, triggering an avalanche of foreign memories that threatened to overwhelm his already fragmented thoughts.
"What the hell is happening to me?" Azrael muttered, pressing his palms against his temples as the flood of recollections intensified. "Am I...did I actually transmigrate?"
The memories came in waves, each one more vivid than the last. In his previous life, he had been a struggling 2D artist whose career had been decimated by the rise of AI-generated artwork. Six months of unemployment led to increasingly desperate nights of drowning his sorrows in cheap alcohol. On the final night, he'd been too drunk to make it to bed properly and had choked on his own vomit, like a washed-up rock star from a cautionary tale.
"God, what a humiliating way to die," he groaned, his face burning with embarrassment. But then another horrifying thought struck him like lightning: "Oh shit! My computer—I never deleted my research materials!"
The thought of his friend finding his extensive collection of "educational content" made him want to crawl under a rock. He could only pray that his friend would have the decency to format the hard drive before anyone else became curious.
Pushing aside his mortification, Azrael forced himself to focus on the torrent of new memories flooding his consciousness. This world bore an uncanny resemblance to his original Earth, yet everything felt different at its core. The key difference was a profession that didn't exist in his previous world: Lore Cardians.
According to the memories implanted in him, history had unfolded similarly to his original timeline until a pivotal moment when Attila the Hun led his barbarian hordes into a mysterious dimensional passage. This event tore reality itself, creating rifts and secret realms that spewed forth creatures of nightmares and legend across the globe.
The first hero of this new age was a man named Oren, a simple guard in the service of the Empire of Aetherlight. When he accidentally fell through one of these dimensional cracks, everyone assumed he was lost forever. Instead, weeks later, he emerged as something more than human, wielding the first card ever seen on Earth—a manifestation of power drawn from stories and legends themselves.
That was over six centuries ago. The Empire of Aetherlight evolved from a struggling nation into a dominant force. However, its royal family now serves only as ceremonial figureheads while an elected cabinet wields true power.
"So the Empire of Aetherlight became a constitutional monarchy," Azrael mused, scratching his head. "I guess some things never change, even in fantasy worlds."
Memories painted a picture of an escalating conflict between humanity and demonic forces pouring from secret realms. In some regions, entire armies of humans and demons faced off in battles that could determine the fate of cities or nations.
To address the constant need for powerful defenders, the Empire of Aetherlight Cardian Master Association conducted annual talent assessments in high schools, identifying students with the potential to become Lore Cardians. These students were then whisked away for intensive training.
The original owner of this body had died just as he was preparing to create his first card, a victim of excessive studying and sleep deprivation. Azrael noted the irony of inheriting a body that had literally studied itself to death.
"Well, at least I get a second chance," he said, feeling a flutter of excitement. "A world where you can bring fictional characters to life through cards? This could actually be amazing."
His enthusiasm dimmed considerably when he picked up the thick tome lying open beside him. Revised Edition 4.8 of the World Mythology Atlas. The pages were filled with detailed accounts of gods, heroes, and monsters from every mythological tradition imaginable. The original owner had clearly been well-versed in these stories, but Azrael felt like he was staring at a foreign language.
"Shit," he whispered, reality crashing down around him. "I barely remember high school mythology class, let alone the kind of detailed knowledge needed to craft cards from these legends."
He was familiar with the major figures—Zeus, Thor, Odin, and Sun Wukong—but his spiritual power was insufficient to manifest such powerful beings. It would be like trying to contain the ocean in a teacup.
Feeling defeated, Azrael was about to close the mythology book when another volume caught his attention: How to Write Stories (Cardian Master Edition). He flipped it open randomly, and his eyes immediately locked onto a passage that made his heart race.
"The fundamental principle of card creation lies not in historical accuracy, but in narrative coherence," he read aloud. "As long as the internal logic remains consistent and the character settings are reasonable and well-developed, it is possible to manifest cards based on original fictional constructs."
The implications hit him like a thunderbolt. "Wait a minute. Does this mean anime characters could work?"
As a professional 2D artist, Azrael had consumed thousands of hours of anime, manga, light novels, and web fiction. His knowledge of fictional characters was encyclopedic, though his grasp of classical mythology was embarrassingly shallow.
"This could actually work," he breathed, feeling hope rekindle in his chest.
He turned his attention to the card-making materials scattered across his desk, trying to process the technical requirements. "Spiritual power, materials, story settings, and card faces—all four elements are essential for successful card creation."
Fortunately, spiritual power seemed to be the least of his concerns. Perhaps as a side effect of his transmigration, his spiritual energy had already reached the black iron level—the minimum threshold for beginning card creation. It was a modest blessing in an otherwise challenging situation.
The profession of Lore Cardian demanded exceptional individuals—people with strong spiritual power, creative minds, deep knowledge, and access to expensive materials. However, given their critical role in defending humanity from demonic incursions, society bent over backward to support potential candidates.
"Now, let's see what kind of financial mess I've inherited," Azrael sighed as he delved deeper into the original owner's memories.
The picture that emerged was grim. The original Azrael had been an orphan whose parents, ordinary civilians, had perished during a demon invasion when he was just a child. They left him with nothing but a cramped apartment and barely enough savings to get through high school.
Desperate to gather the funds needed for card-making materials, the original owner had turned to predatory online lending. He borrowed 100,000 Empyrean dollars at exorbitant interest rates, using the apartment itself as collateral. The terms were brutal: if he couldn't repay the loan within a month, the lending group would seize his home.
"Jesus Christ, kid," Azrael muttered, feeling a mix of sympathy and exasperation for his predecessor. "Talk about betting everything on a single roll of the dice."
The gamble wasn't entirely irrational, though. If he successfully became a Lore Cardian, he'd be eligible for a scholarship worth up to 150,000 Empyrean dollars. That would be enough to pay off the loan and fund his education through college.
But failure would mean homelessness and a future of crushing debt.
"No pressure at all," he said sarcastically. Then he took a deep breath to steady his nerves. "All right, time to see what materials are available to someone at my level."
He booted up the ancient computer—a machine that looked like it belonged in a museum—and navigated to the official trading website operated by the Card Maker Association. The site's interface was basic but functional, displaying only materials that matched his clearance level.
As an ordinary person with black iron-level spiritual power, his options were severely limited. The available materials appeared in neat categories:
Biological Materials Available:
- Rookie Pirate (white quality): Basic humanoid template with minor combat skills
- Elite Samurai (blue quality): Disciplined warrior with advanced swordsmanship
- Human-Faced Snake (green quality): Deceptive creature with hypnotic abilities
- Zombie Dog (green quality): Undead canine with pack mentality
- Hanged Ghost (blue quality): Vengeful spirit with fear-based attacks
- Avenger (green quality): Individual driven by overwhelming desire for retribution
Item Materials Available:
[Samurai Sword] (Green Quality): Masterwork blade with spiritual conductivity
[Ming Guang Armor] (Blue Quality): Traditional protective gear with defensive enchantments
[Ring-Headed Broadsword] (Green Quality): Heavy weapon designed for battlefield combat
[Sportswear] (White Quality): Modern athletic clothing with mobility bonuses
Azrael drummed his fingers on the desk as he studied each option, his mind racing through possible combinations. The key was finding materials that could work together to create a coherent character concept—someone whose story would resonate strongly enough to manifest as a powerful card.
Suddenly, inspiration struck like lightning. His eyes lit up as he envisioned the perfect combination: [Elite Samurai] for the base warrior template, [Avenger] to provide the driving motivation and emotional core, and [Samurai Sword] as the signature weapon to tie the concept together. A blank card would serve as the foundation for the entire construct.
"A masterless samurai driven by the need for vengeance," he whispered, already seeing the character take shape in his mind: "Someone who's lost everything and fights not for honor or duty, but for justice that can only be found at the edge of a blade."
The total cost made his stomach clench—over 90,000 Empyrean dollars, leaving him with barely enough to cover basic living expenses. But this was his shot—probably his only shot—at escaping the trap his predecessor had built.
"Success or failure, it all comes down to this," he said grimly. He added the materials to his cart and completed the purchase before he could second-guess himself.
The moment the transaction processed, Azrael felt a profound sense of emptiness—not just in his bank account, but in his soul as well. He had committed everything to this desperate gamble. Now, all he could do was wait.
About thirty minutes later, a rhythmic tapping sound drew his attention to the window. "Duoduoduo."
Perched on the windowsill outside was a peculiar creature—a rotund bird with pristine white feathers and an oversized head that gave it an almost comical appearance. What made it truly remarkable was the small messenger bag strapped across its body with professional efficiency.
Azrael recognized the creature as a Cuckoo Chicken from the original owner's memories. It was a black iron-level biological card commonly used for civilian logistics throughout the city. These creatures were the backbone of the Velkairos delivery system, capable of navigating the urban landscape with remarkable precision.
Azrael opened the window and carefully accepted the envelope that the Cuckoo Chicken extracted from its bag with practiced motions. The creature then pecked a small button on its harness, activating a recorded message.
"Please confirm receipt of your order," a pleasant female voice said from the bag's built-in speaker system.
Azrael opened the envelope with trembling hands. Inside was exactly what he had ordered: the [Elite Samurai] template, the [Avenger] essence, the [Samurai Sword] blueprint, and one pristine blank card. Each material seemed to pulse with latent energy, waiting to be shaped into something greater.
"Yes, this is perfect," he confirmed, nodding to the delivery bird. Acting on impulse, he reached out to pet the creature's soft-looking feathers.
The Cuckoo Chicken immediately hopped backward with an indignant squawk and pecked another button on its harness. "Please refrain from physical contact with delivery personnel during business hours," the recorded voice chided.
Without another word, the bird spread its wings and fluttered away, leaving Azrael alone with his materials and the weight of everything that came next.
"Incredible," he murmured, watching the Cuckoo Chicken disappear into the urban maze. "Even the delivery system here runs on card magic."
For the first time since awakening in this strange new world, Azrael felt genuine excitement building in his chest. The sight of that simple creature had driven home just how amazing this reality could be. If he could master card creation, entire worlds of possibility would open before him.
He looked down at the materials spread across his desk—the building blocks of his future. Everything came down to what happened next.
"All right," he said, cracking his knuckles with determination. "Time to create my first card and find out if I have what it takes to survive in this world."
...
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